


Dogeared

by Secretjeanmarco



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Books, Cute, Fluff, Librarian!Marco, Library, Library AU, M/M, jeanmarco, little pinch of tender sadness in there to really bring out the fluff, reader!jean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-24
Updated: 2015-12-24
Packaged: 2018-05-08 22:38:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5515877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Secretjeanmarco/pseuds/Secretjeanmarco
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Marco can't stop spying on a young man who has begun frequenting his library for intense reading sessions.  Done for the 2015 JM Secret Santa Exchange set up by FlecksofPoppy, Cobalt_Bleu, and Babydollchan.  Thank you guys!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dogeared

**Author's Note:**

  * For [zaltanna](https://archiveofourown.org/users/zaltanna/gifts).



Working summer afternoons in a library had its perks. Air conditioning was never in short supply, beckoning Marco with the temptation of respite from the blazing July heat. Most children were outside playing in pools and fields rather than researching book reports, so that meant that the remaining population of library dwellers tended to be adults enraptured by their adventures in polite silence. Fewer patrons meant less work was needed to keep the books tidy and stocked, and less requests for assistance. This afforded Marco more free time to browse the shelves for his own pleasure as well. 

It was a particularly slow Tuesday that Marco remembers first taking notice of a young man he'd never seen in the library before. He was heading downstairs when he spotted the stranger, who was scouring the Science Fiction titles intently, his eyebrows drawn together into a concentrated scowl as he would pull a book from the shelf, turning it in his hands to inspect the back cover for a moment, only to replace it where he'd found it. He repeated this pattern a few times over, letting out increasingly exasperated huffs each time a book's summary seemed to miss the mark of what he was searching for. At last, he selected a book which Marco recognized as one of his own personal favorites. To his surprise, the young man read the entire passage on the back, raised his eyebrows and shrugged contentedly, and opened the book to the first page and began to read, not even bothering to find a seat first. 

A sneeze bellowed unexpectedly from the foyer, and the noise echoed harshly in the dusty hush of the library, jolting Marco back into a sudden awareness of his surroundings. He hadn't even realized that he'd paused in his descent, and when exactly had the corners of his mouth turned up into the goofy grin he now bore? Based on the tight ache of his cheeks, he guessed it must have been a few minutes at the very least. He glanced back down at the young man, the bangs of his undercut falling over his lashes undisturbed as his eyes focused on the words before him, and felt his chest tingle with a mix of pride and curiosity as he continued down the stairs and back to work.

Throughout the day, Marco found his mind wandering back to the picky reader. He wondered what he had thought of the book so far, and secretly wished to ask his opinion on some of the finer details of the plot. He also felt that he probably had a hard time finding things to read as he appeared to just be going through every book until something caught his fancy. After a few hours of restlessness, he gave up trying to focus on real work and, in locating something needing to be brought upstairs, procured for himself an excuse to pass over the Science Fiction aisle once again. Marco nearly dropped the magazines in his arms in shock. Hours after first catching sight of him, the mystery reader had not moved more than a foot, shuffling slightly to the side to allow others to reach the books before him, but otherwise remaining stagnant. All energy was expended in turning pages and scanning paragraphs. A few minutes of observation provided Marco a glimpse of two sharp intakes of air, an elbow itch, and one "tsk" of disapproval. Seeing him so engulfed in the story made Marco want to reread it all over again. 

As much as he would have enjoyed extending his reconnaissance well into the afternoon, Marco was actually paid to do work. It was not long after he'd returned some magazines to their home upstairs that Armin had talked him into covering a story time presentation in the kid's section for a coworker who'd gone home sick. Once he had a moment to himself again, he meandered down to the Science Fiction aisle directly, feeling rather bold after reading aloud "The Little Engine that Could." Sadly, when he turned the corner, the young man who had occupied his thoughts and this aisle since that morning was no longer around. Marco trudged over to the shelf from which the young man had made his selection, and upon seeing the library's only copy of the book that he had been reading, suddenly felt rather deflated. I guess he didn't like it that much, after all... Marco concluded with a sigh, rubbing his thumb over the peeling spine before turning away and abandoning the book, and with it, every silly fantasy he'd allowed himself to indulge.  
* * * *  
The next day it rained, which in itself is rather odd for summertime, but not entirely without occasion. It was a warm, steamy, summer rain, one that clung to your clothes and hung heavy in the air. The library's air conditioning did little to counteract the mugginess that had settled within the building. It became so humid that some of the windows even fogged up with condensation. While this was slightly uncomfortable, it wouldn't normally set Marco so on edge. Mikasa was off that day, so he was handling her daily duties of checking books in and out. Throughout the entire day, it felt like the tiniest inconveniences (books not scanning, children crying in the lobby, i.e.) were getting him so worked up that he had to continually talk himself down from the edge of unreason. He couldn't explain to his coworkers his peculiar grumpiness as he sat slouched at the checkout counter and fanned himself with a spare bookmark groggily, keeping a forcefully casual eye on the few people that entered the library that day. Mr. Undercut McBookSnob was not one of them. He spent the entire day avoiding the Science Fiction aisle and grumbling under his breath.

* * * *  
Thursday's weather was nicer, but fate had conjured more misfortune for Marco in that he had completely lost his voice overnight. Something about the thick, humid air had made it difficult to breathe at night, and now he could hardly croak out a greeting. When he arrived for work, Hanji immediately relegated him to book return duty. For Marco, that meant he'd be carting around books and either kneeling or climbing ladders all day. My luck just keeps getting better, he thought sardonically while loading up a stack of books to be restocked. 

As he was passing by the science fiction section for the first time since Tuesday, he couldn't resist the masochistic compulsion to glance forlornly down the aisle he feared would be empty. Marco was surprised to have been proven wrong, double taking upon spotting the finicky reader exactly where he'd been on Tuesday, as though he had been standing in that spot for two days straight. His disbelief was so compelling that Marco scrunched his eyes shut for three seconds and reopened them, if only to verify that what he saw was not a hallucination brought on by 'library fever' (a term he and Mikasa jokingly used to refer to particularly slow or boring days at their job.) He nearly marched right up to the young man, not wanting to take for granted the second chance with which he'd been graced, before remembering his current predicament. How was he supposed to interact with this person beyond waving and pointing? I guess I could write something down, he considered. But the prospect of sitting down, writing a note, and hand delivering it to this individual felt awkward and made Marco squirm with anxiety. It then dawned on him that this person was reading the same book in which he'd been so engrossed two days earlier. The perfect plan popped into Marco's head, but it required him to wait until the object of his surveillance had left, and it felt like walking through cement to convince himself to push that cart of books away from where he most wished to be, to force himself to be patient so his theory could be confirmed.

Fast forward a few hours and the aisle had been vacated once again. Marco quietly meandered towards that one shelf, returned books in hand so as not to seem idle. As expected, his eyes fell upon that same beat up library cover he'd hoped would be there. He placed his armful of books down on a bench nearby and gingerly scooted the intended book out from between its neighbors as one would coax out a particularly wedged-in jenga tile, delaying his bated exhale until the old worn pages revealed what he had suspected. About two thirds into the book, the corner of the page was very distinctly folded down. The young man hadn't lost interest, he was simply saving his spot for another day. Why doesn't he just check the book out? Marco mused, silently thanking any deities that would accept his gratitude for this unusual turn of events. He doubted that his attention would have been caught so raptly towards this individual had he simply selected the book, checked it out, and left without cause for speculation. Rather, it was his unprecedented devotion to the unadulterated act of reading that made Marco's lips turn up into a smile of admiration. He truly seemed to get completely lost in the story, and Marco was reminded of his first time reading that story. The characters that held a special place in his heart, their struggles and their triumphs that had made his chest twinge with empathy. He remembered the tragic events that were to come in the last third of the book, and the emptiness that hollowed out a knot in his wooden heart after the death of someone he felt as though he actually knew. Though the people and the plot were fiction, the pain he had felt was real. He remembered sneaking away at Thanksgiving to finish the book, and the tears that prickled and fell onto the back cover as he sat there, contemplating that it was over. Finishing that book was more emotionally exhaustive than he had expected, but it was also a bittersweet relief. It was an entirely cathartic and humbling experience to be so moved by a piece of literature, and to come back to reality knowing none of it is real but still feeling the aftershocks of being shaken to the core.

Back to the task at hand: Marco was sure that this person had a hard time finding something they liked. Based off of their mutual interest in the novel he was nearly done reading (having managed a third of the content each day, Marco was confident he'd finish the book on his next visit), he had a few solid suggestions. However, he didn't want to bombard him with an overwhelming amount of options, most of which would require trips to completely different areas of the library. He decided to pick his favorite out of the bunch and pulled a post-it note pad out of his pocket to scribble down his recommendation, excitement and anxiety battling for majority control of his emotions. His hands shook the same either way, for which his handwriting suffered a slight wobble. 

"Hi there!  
I noticed you reading this earlier today  
and I thought you might like this other  
book as well. It can be found two aisles  
down in the fantasy section.  
-M"

Marco included the book title and author, but provided directions to the location of the book on the shelf rather than bringing it back to the reservation desk or suggesting he get a library card and check the book out. He didn't want to come across as too eager and invasive, and he also secretly really wished to observe him as he read more. He wanted to lead him on a wonderful scavenger hunt of stories, but was terrified that his note wouldn't go unnoticed, or worse, would be ignored. He was not brave enough to own up to his sneaking around, nor to bring the book to reception under his name where his intentions would be exposed for all to see. Marco was loathe to imagine the explanation that would be required to accompany those actions. "Yes, I'm leaving this book on hold for a patron who's visited twice and with whom I've developed what I'm worried is becoming an unhealthy attachment. No, I don't know his name, but he's tall and lean, with blonde hair and a dark undercut, a strong jawline and handsome profile, and narrow, focused eyes. He scowls a lot, but I have the suspicion that it's more because he needs glasses and not so much because he's angry. Yes I've spent an alarming amount of library time staring at him, so yeah, please hold on to this book if he comes by. Thanks!"

Yeah, no... Marco thought sourly, pressing the adhesive strip of the post-it note the the very last page of the book, where it would surely be found should someone turn to that page. He replaced the book on the shelf, picked up his stack of books, and walked away, grinning despite his nerves.

* * * *  
Four days passed before the reader returned - plenty of time for Marco's throat to heal and for anxiety to gnaw away at his confidence. He watched as Mr. Booksnob entered the library, veered pointedly away from the reception desk, and headed straight to his destination with what could have been muscle memory alone leading the way. He walked the path to the Science Fiction section with purpose and opened the book right to where he had dog-eared the page, this time taking a comfortable seat on the nearby bench and settling in for the last leg of his marathon. 

Marco took an early break when he saw how close the subject of his attention had come to the end of his book, taking a seat on a bench a few aisles away and trying not to draw attention as he munched on a sandwich. The stern expression his subject usually wore had shifted into one of obvious concern. Eyebrows slanted upwards, eyes downcast in concentration but misty, one hand holding the book open while the other covered the bottom half of his face defensively. Marco knew what was coming, he could just tell where in the story he was at. He remembered how it felt when he was there, and his heart suddenly ached sympathetically for the other man. 

The young man's chest stuttered with and audible hitch, his eyes squeezing shut in rebellion of the tears gathered there, his knuckles now white over his face and his eyebrows pinched up in agony. Marco had a hunch of where in the story the young man was at, and could feel his own eye-line burn pink with fresh tears. He heard a moist, shaky exhale, barely discernible from over the white noise of the air conditioning. The reader took a few minutes to compose himself, wiping furtively at his eyes and sniffling wetly, before reopening the book and ploughing through to the the very end. 

Marco swallowed his heart back down into his chest as he watched the stern expression return to the young man's face. He peeled off the post-it note and squinted, seemingly confused by what he held. Marco could barely contain the cacophanous buzz rising from his body, his jittery leg and twitching eyelid betraying his withering self control. Besides, he only had a few minutes left on his break and needed to visit the restroom before returning to work. Reluctantly, he wrenched himself away from his voyeuristic rapture and made himself busy.

He didn't allow himself to return to that side of the library until after he'd already finished his shift. He wasn't sure what to expect when he rounded the corner to the Science Fiction section, but he definitely hadn't predicted finding the stranger he'd come to admire to be sitting there, waiting for him. Their eyes met and the young man smiled at Marco - an expression he'd never seen on him and one that endeared Marco to him even more.  
"You must be M," he stated with nod, punctuated by a nasally exhale.

"I'm Marco," he responded breathily, unable or maybe unwilling to break eye contact with his amber irises. He blinked slowly and grinned cordially at Marco, and he felt his own slack jaw morph into a warm smile as well.

"Hi Marco, nice to meet you - I'm Jean. I've seen you around. You're totally obvious, you know that?" He said with a bit of a laugh. Marco's cheeks burned and he looked down at my feet, rubbing the back of his neck, an embarrassed laugh tumbling from his lips.

"O-Oh...Really?" he replied dumbly, struggling to smother the flight instinct rising within him. He's going to tell me off for being a creep, I'm going to have to quit my job and move three towns over. What did I do!? He shivered in anticipation of the worst.

"Yeah, I've been by a few times to visit my friend who interns in the computer lab upstairs. You always seemed really hard at work, but always in a good mood. Except this one time I saw you on your lunch reading this book, and you had the most deathly serious look on your face." Marco looked up quickly in surprise as Jean put his hands on his waist, shaking his head and laughing while reminiscing. "I was so curious about what you were reading, and I sort of saw where you put it away but I didn't know the title, and I remembered what the back of the cover looked like so I started searching for that. I also went and found that other book you suggested." They locked eyes and were quiet for a moment.

"I'm really glad I read this," he murmured softly, ending the pensive silence between them as he gestured to the first book and looked away bashfully, scratching his arm. "I was wondering if you might want to grab some coffee and chat about it?" he offered hopefully, raising his gaze to meet Marco's expectantly. Marco was still so shocked that he had been the one to inspire him to pick up that book. He could feel the pride and happiness burst like fireworks in his stomach, and couldn't hold back the huge grin now spreading across his face. When Jean saw Marco's reaction, his shoulders relaxed and he smiled too.

"That sounds great, Jean. But first, let's get you a library card and get you checked out. There's some other ones I think you'll like too." In a moment of inexplicable boldness, Marco offered his hand for Jean to hold. He barely even considered it for a moment before readily grasping it, allowing Marco to lead him to the registration desk. It didn't feel weird or forced or awkward, like Marco was worried it would. It was more like they'd been together for a lifetime, and that they had just been reunited after being apart for quite some time, clumsy in remembering their affection for each other but happy to have found one another at last.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to the organizers of the JM Secret Santa exchange for putting this together. This one is for Zaltanna http://zaltanna.tumblr.com/. This was her suggestion: "Marco really likes the enthusiasm Jean has for books and probably takes it upon himself to leave little notes of book recommendations to him throughout the library. It's been some random idea I've had floating around in my head I just thought would be really fluffy for an idea for these two." I know in my version there's only one note, but he intended to leave more! And who knows, maybe he still does that even though Jean knows who it is lol... I hope you like it, I had a lot of fun writing it. Happy Holidays!


End file.
